The Thing They Call Devotion
by AmethystDelphini
Summary: "I knew it, have known it since I woke up. I have become an avox." Sequel to The Thing They Call Love. Cato has been rescued from the arena, forced to serve the Capitol as a mute slave. T for mentions of cruel punishment (whipping, harsh working conditions, etc.), language, and some romance later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

A cannon fires, but the only thing that registers is pain. White hot, consuming me. Blood everywhere. I can't even feel the arrow with all the other pain competing for my attention. And yet, through the blood, I can see. A metal hovercraft claw is descending on me, ready to scoop me up. But I'm not dead yet. And I realize what's going on. They're like Fire Girl. The Capitol must be getting sick of this show. And they've come to finish me off once and for all.

Above me, a hatch on hovercraft opens, and the claw holding my broken body is let inside. I can't see more than the ceiling, but I am inside. Even with the agony of every part of me, I can feel the temperature change. This is dishonorable. That's what I would have said before, anyway. Fight 'till the end. Getting killed by the Capitol would be considered utterly pathetic. I vaguely hear distorted voices. I think they're about to end it. But maybe, in a final act against them, I won't let it happen. They are the reason Clove is dead. She died clinging to life, me trying desperately to hold onto her. And I refuse to go the same way. I take one last look at the world, and get go.

I won. This is the first thought to cross my mind when I wake up. I must have won. I'm alive, I think. Fire Girl and Lover Boy must have died, because here I am breathing. And then the million things wrong with that occur to me. I only heard one cannon. I had an arrow literally shot into my head. And finally, the deal-sealer, I still have my scars. Not my face. That seems normal. But everywhere else, my skin is riddled with what appear to be bite marks. Victors never have scars.

I'm pondering what this all could mean when the wall slides open, revealing a windowless white hall. I get up, finding myself surprisingly steady, and walk down it. I can't help but hold my breath a little as I turn the corner, still hoping that somehow I will see Brutus, Faige, and Rosamund all waiting for me. But as I suspected, I am alone. Well, not quite alone. The hall has opened into another white room, and inside is a woman with short-cropped blonde hair and brown eyes. She's dressed in white, marking her as an avox. I open my mouth to ask what I'm supposed to do when the woman sees me. Her body goes rigid. Her eyes dart around. In a second, she's sprinting away down the hall away from me. Before I can wonder what this means, I smell some sort of sickly sweet chemical scent and black out again.

The second time I come to, I am in the same room. But this is nothing like last time. I am restrained by an invisible band around my waist. There are tubes in my arms. I feel weak and hungrier than I've ever been in my life. And I wish I could say this is even close to the worst of it. My skin has been bleached and is deathly pale. My hair, which I can see reflected in a metal cabinet, is jet black. And my eyes. Oh god, my eyes! Once an attractive shade of ice blue, my supposed windows to the soul are now a swampy brownish color that brings to mind mud and moldy food. But even these things pale in comparison to the one other thing that has changed. It took me a second to realize it, a few more to confirm it was not my imagination. I reach into my mouth to be sure and find emptiness. I try to speak and can only manage a croak. I knew it, have known it since I woke up. I have become an avox.

* * *

**So yeah... this is the sequel I was talking about. Sorry it was super short; the next chapter will be longer. I know, I know, I said I wouldn't to an AU. I personally don't think it is. I have this whole elaborate theory about the avoxes really being tributes, and the Capitol population not being able to support such a large workforce. You can see my profile for more info. In the meantime, yeah, Cato's an avox. Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

My hand grips the edge of the bed. I feel like I'm tilting, even though the room is perfectly still. This can't be true. I'm Cato, I'm the best fighter in district two. I would have won if it weren't for those mutts and I am more powerful than anyone. But no, that's not true at all. Right now, I am totally at the capitol's mercy. I always was really, it just took them cutting out my tongue and strapping me to a table to see it. I feel so helpless, just sitting there and staring at my hands. Something catches my eye on my right wrist. Another alteration. A tattoo, actually, but I can't make sense of it.

**HG74CT2M183*********ARHKA12F16VP**

Just a bunch of letters and numbers I guess. Maybe an identification code of some sort. I couldn't care less. On the wall behind me is a laminated sheet, smudged with finger prints to the point of almost being illegible. Instructions. For the avoxes. For me.

** Dear Tribute,**

** As you may already have figured out, you are still alive. You have been rescued from the arena to serve the capitol. This is not the standard protocol. An exception has been made for you. Make no mistake - you are the only one of your kind.**

Clove. I was hanging onto a small bit of hope that she was rescued too. That they saved her. But obviously not, because I am apparently the only one. She is gone for good. I would have given anything for it to be her and not me. A tear blurs my vision in my left eye and I continue reading.

**Kindly observe the following steps.**

**1.****Press the green button by your bed. This will disconnect you from your restraints.**

**2.****Inside the clearly marked drawer, you will find your new uniform. Put it on.**

**3.****Press the red button on the wall. This will cause a door to open. Walk left down the hall until you find a slot for a card.**

**4.****In the breast pocket of your uniform you will find an access card for the door. Utilize it and await further instructions.**

I am still numb as I follow the instructions. Press the button, disconnecting all of the tubes and removing the invisible band around my waist. Remove my hospital gown and don the crisp white shirt and pants with matching shoes. Go down the hall, pause for a second, and slide the card I found in my pocket, which has the same letters and numbers as my tattoo, in the slot. An invisible door slides open, revealing a dormitory. But this place is nothing like the one in district three. This room is crammed with people, with three levels of beds and only a tiny space for each person to call their own. In the center of the room is a communal area with three heavily worn couches and an assortment of unmatched chairs gathered around a television showing an advertisement for some new brand of hair dye. In one corner is a small door, most likely to a bathroom, and next to it a faucet.

A man with green eyes and dirty blonde hair in a buzz cut comes up, though after my own transformation I am doubtful that these are his natural looks. He wears the same white uniform as everyone else, but he must be someone of seniority because he has been granted the luxury of speech.

"As I'm sure you've gathered, these will be your new quarters. You are bunk fifty four. In your space you will find everything you need. You are permitted four hours of rest each day. This can be spent sleeping or somehow entertaining yourself but only in this room. Your assignment begins tomorrow at five am. Due to the strength you showcased in the arena, you have been put on the team for building arenas for future tributes. Any questions?" he finishes, holding out a dry erase board and a pen. His voice is clipped and terse. I resist the urge to write some of the less friendly words I'm thinking right now and shake my head.

Bunk is probably too big a word for my new quarters. I am on the top level and I get what I estimate to be seven by three by four feet of space. three of the walls are closed off, and the other has a sliding door I can pull closed. I do this now and look inside the cupboards built into the wall. In one is the uniform I'm wearing replicated five times. Another holds what are supposed to be my toiletries - a toothbrush, a small tube of flavorless toothpaste, an unscented bar of soap, and a dish towel. I'm honestly not that surprised, but I had hoped for something better. In the spot where a third drawer would be is a plastic flap leading into a laundry chute. It's maybe two feet square, far too small someone my size to ever fit down.

I climb down the cold metal ladder into the main room, taking my toiletries with me. Over at the faucet, I brush my teeth and spit into a little floor drain. Inside the door I saw earlier are three avoxes waiting in line for an open toilet, and two waiting for a shower. Clearly, here, privacy is no object. I wait in the shower line and zone out, thinking of all I left behind in the arena. Mainly Clove. I knew the second I saw that sign there was no hope for her. I don't even know if this is better than death anyway. Someone nudges me and I step into the shower space. It's utterly filthy but the sooner I get used to this, the better. I strip, place my clothes in a closing bin, and hit the button for the water. I try not to think of the people who are probably looking at me right now. I wash my hair using the soap and have just started on my left arm when the water shuts off. Apparently there is a time limit. Pressing the button again yields no results. As quickly as possible, I dry my hair and body and wipe the drying soap off my arm. I can feel the eyes, but I avoid them as I dress again.

As soon as I'm back in my bunk, I close the door and throw myself down on the bare mattress. I don't want to be here. I think death would be better. I would much rather be with Clove in whatever afterlife might exist or even in nothingness than in this place full of mute slaves. What does it matter? I would definitely go to hell anyway. Maybe this is hell. Might as well be.

A quiet knock on my door startles me and I open it tiredly. All of the fire I had in the arena is gone, and has been replaced by a dull sense that I just need to get through each day. An avox with medium brown hair and blue eyes hands me a book and quickly closes the door behind him. I examine the book. No title. I flip a few pages and find what seem to be more instructions, but confusing ones.

**Do not show anyone this book. Inside you will find a list of words and their hand gestures, derived from a language known as sign language used by the deaf before the dark days. It is strongly recommended that you learn most of the words here, as the language provides a more efficient form of communication than writing.**

I turn to the next page and there is the letter a, with a drawing of a closed fist under it. All of the letters are listed, each with a different hand position. A few have arrows, suggesting movement. On the opposite page are numbers, listed in a similar fashion. I am confused when I flip another page and see a list of words beginning with A. This I recognize. It's like a dictionary, a book that has words and their meanings listed in alphabetical order. Aelia used one to do her homework. But instead of the meanings of words, there are hand gestures. So it's like a language, one you speak with your hands. And I'm supposed to learn it, to communicate with the other avoxes. It could be useful, I suppose. I decide I'll focus on it later, after seeing what else my new living quarters have to offer.

I brace myself and slide open my door, going into the main room. The television is now showing the district thirteen ruins. I'm about to settle down and watch some TV when something catches my eye. It's a box filled with tapes, one for every hunger games. My eyes scan the pile and I find seventy four. Should I do it? Maybe it will be too painful to relive everything. But some part of me has to know everything that happened.

* * *

**A bit of a longer chapter, to make up for the last one being short. I wasn't really sure where to cut it off, so if this ending is a little weird that's why. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

I brace myself and slide open my door, going into the main room. The television is now showing the district 13 ruins. I'm about to settle down and watch some TV when something catches my eye. It's a box filled with tapes, one for every hunger games. My eyes scan the pile and I find 74. Should I do it? Maybe it will be too painful to relive everything. But some part of me has to know everything that happened.

Without a word, which should seem normal because I'm an avox now but still feels strange, I put in the tape. A few seconds of static, then I see the district one reaping. The reapings come first, then the chariot ride, training scores, and finally interviews. There are too many tributes to show everyone's whole interview, but everyone has a little segment. I watch myself say, "I'm vicious, I'm prepared, I'm ready to go." Oh how wrong I was.

The bloodbath is a blur and there's a quick cut-around to all of the living tributes. Most of them ran off into the forest, but Thresh and the district ten boy head to that field. Then skip ahead to when we found the district 8 girl. The camera zooms in on our little group. We see the fire and find the girl, and then they do a cut away to Fire Girl in a tree somewhere. They keep showing her and eventually I realize that she was in the tree above us the whole time. If only we'd seen her. Not that it ended well when we did actually catch her up a tree.

After the girl's death, it shows a bit of Fire Girl looking for water and then lots of screen time devoted to the fire. We get Fire Girl in the tree and it shows the little eleven girl pointing up at the tracker jacker nest. Then, of course, there's the tracker jacker attack. The footage skips several days there, since nothing really happened. Fire Girl and Rue the little eleven girl team up and Thresh kills ten. Then I inhale sharply because it's showing me waking up and I know our supplies are about to get destroyed. Now I finally get to know how it happened. Little Rue sets the fires we saw, as I suspected, and then the five girl ends up showing Fire Girl where the mines are. Clove was right about the bow, because she shoots a hanging bag of apples and sets off enough mines for the others to go off too.

When I come running onto the plane, I'm not prepared for what my rage looks like on camera. I seem blind, tearing open crates and thoughtlessly killing the boy from three. I know I didn't get sympathy for that.

Marvel goes to check his traps and little Rue gets stuck. Again, as I suspected, she calls out for Fire Girl and is speared, but not before Fire Girl ends our ally with one pull of the bowstring. The rule change is announced, tons of Lover Boy and Fire Girl kissing, and then the announcement of the feast. As it turns out, the girl from five desperately needed food after our supplies got destroyed. She'd been stealing from us the whole time.

When five runs out into the open and grabs her pack, I brace myself and prepare for the worst. Fire Girl comes out, then Clove. They fight briefly and Clove badly injures her. Then she begins to taunt her, as I knew she planned to. She and I both see the terror in Fire Girl's face. But what she doesn't see and I do is Thresh coming out.

"What did you do to that little girl? You kill her?" He screams at her. Clove is sent scrambling backward. She calls for me, and it shows the rest of her exchange with Thresh and then the rock smashing her skull. I don't know how I'm going to handle what comes next, seeing her last moments with me. But as it turns out, there was nothing to be afraid of. After it shows Thresh and Fire Girl running away, the only sign of Clove is a cannon and the hovercraft coming to take the body. They edited out my tears too, the kisses. I was right. We were just playing characters in their games and unluckily for us, we happened to be the villains. Maybe if I had told Caesar I liked Clove, we would have been the star-crossed lovers going home right now. I just can't believe they would do such a thing. It's bad enough I've lost Clove, and now I've also lost all of those moments with her in the arena. All of them edited out because it didn't fit the plot. I hate the gamemakers for this. I hate that we even had to play this stupid game. And most of all, I hate that I was actually excited for it.

On the TV, there's about a million years of the two starcrossed lovers again before anything happens. The thing is, most of it's just talking. Talking about how Lover Boy stalked her from the age of five, and for some reason that's portrayed as the sweetest thing in the world. But of course, a simple kiss from me would have been far too out of character. I kill Thresh, and they are forced to show my message in his body. Caesar and Claudius are not sure what to make of it, and say that perhaps this was how she wanted her killer to die and had told me this. No mention of romance at all. The girl from five dies when she steals some poisonous berry from Fire Girl and Lover Boy. Then it shows me running from the mutts, catching Lover Boy in a headlock, and finally getting ravaged by the mutts. I avert my eyes until Fire Girl's arrow pierces my brain. Then I do watch, because I never got to hear the announcement of their victory. I wonder how they reacted. But instead of a hovercraft coming down and taking them, a voice booms out and tells them that the rule change has been revoked and they have to fight to the death. There's a lot of stupid talk from Lover Boy about how he couldn't lose her and it would be kinder to let him die. I'm not really listening, and neither is Fire Girl because her eyes have a glazed look to them. Finally, she opens a pouch at her belt and gives Lover Boy something. When they open their hands, I see berries like the ones five ate. So they're both going to kill themselves. At the count of three, both shove the berries into their mouths, but as I suspected the capitol decides two victors is better than none. They rinse their mouths in the lake and are taken away. The last shot is of Fire Girl pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft as doctors try to save her lover. But I'm not watching anymore.

Would we have done it? If we were both alive at the end and they revoked the rule change, would we have done what Fire Girl and Lover Boy did? Would I have loved her enough to decide death was better than losing her? I think so. I felt that way in the arena. The real question is how she felt about me. Maybe our instincts would have just taken over. Could one of us have killed the other? It makes me feel so awful to think that even if Clove and I had lived, it wouldn't have been the end of it.

The rest of the day is a blur. Sometime in the evening, another avox comes in with bowls of boiled vegetables and mush, along with plastic cups people begin to fill at the corner faucet. I'm not hungry, but I eat it anyway. At the first bite I almost throw up, but I know I will have to get used to this. It takes awhile to get the hang of swallowing, but I bracingly scrape clean my bowl and head to bed when a clock on the wall says nine. I have to get up at five tomorrow. I should be well rested.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait on that chapter. I've been really busy at school lately. I recently entered an essay contest and the results are supposed to come out today so yeah... crossing my fingers. Hope you enjoyed!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

When I open my eyes, I can't place where I am. Not my house. Not in my bed at the training center in two. Not my room in the capitol. Nowhere in the arena. The second I think of the arena it all comes flooding back. Then a rapping sound registers. The door to my little compartment is lifted open and harsh artificial light floods in. A man dressed in the white avox's uniform gestures for me to get up before moving onto the bunk next to mine. Right. It must be five, and I have to wake up and work. On the arenas, I think.

After the last avox opens his eyes, the man who woke us takes out a card like the one I have and avoxes start to follow into a quiet hallway. A group of female avoxes joins us. Eventually, we get to an elevator and ascend to a hangar with a hovercraft. It's cramped inside, standing room only. The ride lasts only fifteen minutes though, before we are deposited inside an arena.

Once the doors open, I hold in a gasp. Before, I would have given anything to see this. It's a half-finished arena that has an uncanny resemblance to the outskirts of district two. It's comprised of rocky hills with outcroppings that have holograms of trees projected on them. A river flows down from the highest peak into the valley that is on the far side of the place. It's strange, because the force field isn't projecting a sky and the real warm weather shines through, not matching the surroundings at all.

My awe is short-lived, because soon a group of five avoxes begins to unload dozens of crates of little saplings and shovels. I watch for a few seconds, unsure what to do, and then see everyone making their way up to the outcroppings and digging holes in the places the trees are projected. I follow a dozen others to one of the shorter hills, grabbing a shovel and a tray of saplings as I do so. My shovel breaks the surface of the unforgiving earth when I realize I don't know how deep I'm going. My eyes dart around. I could ask someone in charge, but all the uniforms are the same and I've gathered people around here aren't very forgiving. _How deep?_ I scratch in the dirt. A female avox with mousy brown hair and bright blue eyes begins making rapid hand motions at me. _New._ I write. She nods, makes a few motions to the avox next to her, and holds up nine fingers before writing the word _inches_ in the ground at my knees. Then she points to the shovel, which has a groove at what looks like about nine inches.

I plant all day. At first it's just boring, but when the night comes it's all I can do not to go to sleep. We have night vision goggles like the ones in the arena, but it's still a bit hard to see since the bluish holograms blend in oddly well in the colors of this night vision. By the time the head avox begins coming around to each of us, I have to pinch myself hard to keep from falling asleep. Twenty hours of backbreaking, finger numbing, eye drooping work. And this will be every day.

My eyes wander to the others around me. My heart sinks when I see that all of them have completed more trays than me. I finished nine trays of twelve. Except for one man, an old man, whose shaking hands only managed six. When the head avox gets to him, he raises a whip and the old man recoils as he is hit. I count forty eight times. By the end of it he's unconscious and near dead. Forty eight lashes. He had planted seventy two trees. If I had to guess, we were supposed to do ten trays. Maybe one lash for everyone one you are short. One hundred and twenty trees, but I only did one hundred and eight. I wasn't really short by that much, but I doubt I'll get off easy. Well, maybe compared to him.

When the man comes over, I see his eyes flash as he raises the whip. Not in anger exactly. There's an quality about him that doesn't seem... human. Like he's been trained so hard and long he's become a slave to the capitol. Reminds me of myself before the games. I feel his rough skin on me as he pulls up the back of my shirt and the whip comes down. Blinding pain races through me, making my vision go white for a moment. I feel a second impact. This is so damn wrong. No human should be able to do this to another this way. At the third hit I am in danger of crying out, but I'm guessing it would just result in further punishment. After four lashes I sink to my knees unable to take it any more. I don't try to escape though. It's pointless. Through the white hot pain I do see some sympathetic looks from the avoxes around me. At least here I get some amount of pity, unlike in the games where I was hated by all. Except for Clove, and maybe the rest of my alliance. fifth hit. This is better than the mutts, I tell myself. Better than the mutts. Six. I can feel every single stroke resonating in my bones. Seven. Better than the mutts, better than the mutts, better than the mutts. Eight. The whip goes a bit higher this time, resulting in a gash on my neck. I flinch at the area of my pain traveling to a place previously unharmed. Ninth hit. This is unfair. There are people in the capitol right now who can literally have anything they want appear by pressing a button and here there are hundreds, probably thousands, of people being forced to work twenty hours a day with only four hours of rest and one meal that whole time. Ten. Even the arena was better than this, at least before Clove died. Actually, even after she died because she is still dead but I no longer have any hope. I thought death, or losing her, would be the worst of it. Eleven. If my guess is correct, I only have one more hit to go. Still that seems to make it hurt ten times more. Twelve. As I suspected, this is the end of it. I wish I could lay down on the ground and whimper, but this will not help me. And OK, some part of my old self thinks it would be pathetic to just lie down and cry. I pull my white shirt over my back, feeling the blood seep through. These wounds will take a long time to heal, and I had better keep them clean or else they'll get infected.

The whip man finishes his inspection and leads us back to the hovercraft. Any of my initial excitement at being in an arena is gone. I pity the tributes from two who will volunteer to be here. I wish I could tell them what it's like. You're wrong, I want to scream at them. It's not OK. You won't bring pride to your family. You'll have to kill innocent children or watch people you love die. If you do make it out, you live with that guilt forever. If you don't, you're brought to within an inch of death and then made a slave. Don't do it. The hovercraft lands back in the building and I'm led back to my quarters. I fall asleep the second my head hits the inch-thick plastic mattress.

* * *

**Well... that was a depressing chapter. Definitely harsh, but I wanted to keep it realistic with my ideas of what it would probably be like. Since this isn't technically canon, I figure I can make things up as I go along. Sorry for not updating sooner, but I've been pretty busy, both with school and other writing projects. I'm considering trying to write a book. Hope you enjoyed!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Every single day for the next six months is almost identical to the first. Most days we plant trees, but occasionally we get other tasks like laying dirt or building the cornucopia. Every single day I try to think of a reason I should still be alive. Every single day it gets harder. The only thing preventing my suicide is the sheer inconvenience of it. My first choice would be to shoot myself, but where would the likes of me get a hold of a gun? There are no weapons or means of hanging in my quarters. I doubt I could drown myself in the little shower. The only other thing I can think of is starving myself, but I know my last days would be agony from both the hunger itself and the punishment my deterioration would no doubt bring.

My body learns to adjust to the new schedule, but it's awful. I feel so weak compared to what I was before the games. It always comes back to what was before the games in regards to what is now. I learn by necessity. I need to keep clean, so I train myself to shower in the few minutes I am allowed each day. I don't want to be whipped, so I become an expert at planting trees. It is inconvenient to have no means of communication, so I study the book I was given and become fluent in the language of the avoxes. The avoxes. Still, after all this time, I don't think of myself as one of them. They are still the avoxes, and I am just Cato Langston who happens to have had his tongue cut out and lives with them.

When I wake up one day, I feel a little bit of happiness. Nothing has changed, of course. I will still be spending the day doing what I always do, but tomorrow is different. These two weeks are the weeks of the victory tour and while we will be spending some of Fire Girl and Lover Boy's travel days setting up for the capitol party, we will be watching all the live programming. Technically we're supposed to watch the whole thing, but according to the others nobody actually enforces that so I'll likely take this chance to catch up on some much needed sleep. For this reason, I'm actually in a good mood when I get up. Unfortunately, my body has adjusted to expect the five am wake up, resulting in twenty to thirty minutes less sleep a night for me.

We're planting cacti today, in a desert arena I can imagine will be awful for the tributes who receive it. It's difficult work without gloves but I easily meet my quotas and even plant a few extra. I have learned several things from signing with the avoxes and one of them is that some of the newer captains will be more forgiving in their punishments if they think of you as a hard worker. Even the night is relatively decent, because they are testing out the new weather systems. During the day the sweltering heat is torturous but the night air is pleasantly cool.

When I get back to my bunk, I take a shower and brush my teeth. I'll be able to sleep in until at least ten tomorrow. Five extra hours of sleep. Priceless.

Mercifully, my internal clock senses that today is different and allows me to get a full eight hours of rest. It is indescribably good to wake completely refreshed. I scrape some leftovers off a plate for my breakfast and settle in to watch the victory tour. The capitol seal appears and I half expect to see faces but the shot is of Lover Boy walking out of his snowy house, accompanied by his team and Fire Girl doing the same. They are announced as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Melark. I never bothered to learn their names. At first I didn't care and then I'd already established my nicknames for them. Katniss... Peeta... they suit them. Fire Girl, I mean Katniss, jumps into his arms and they fall in the snow, kissing. They look so happy. That should be me. I would give anything for it to be me. Eventually their mentor interrupts them and they head to the train station. Family and friends bid them goodbye. Train leaves.

The screen then switches to commercials. I change into a new uniform and when I do, I feel something rolling around in the pockets. It's a pencil, if it can even be called that. It's worn down to a nub. I tap an avox I know to be named Don Acura on the shoulder and show him the little pencil. He's middle aged, with dark brown hair and grey eyes.

_What's this? _I sign to him.

_Pencil._ Yeah, no kidding.

_I mean, what should I do with it?_

_ You could make a book._

_ A book?_

_ How you're talking to me now._

_ Is there any paper?_

_ Sure, ask Lux. _He signs, indicating a man with hair that's half red and half blonde and eyes that can't decide if they're black or blue. He's definitely due for a dying. Every month, we have to get our hair and eye color touched up. It's a pain, but it makes me feel a little better sometimes. At least the real me is under there. After getting the paper, I head back to my bunk and begin copying the words and their pictures from the book I received on my arrival. It's rarely used now. I guess it's my duty, to pass on the language to the next new avox who comes here.

The two weeks go on like this. Sometimes I watch the tour and other times I stay in my bunk and copy the signs. The rest is welcome, but without any distractions I find myself thinking about Clove more than I have in months. Everything seems to bring her to mind when I don't constantly have to focus on my own survival. I tell myself again and again to get over it, but all alone in this place it's nearly impossible to move on.

I also do quite a bit of work on the upcoming victory party room. Katniss and Peeta will finish their tour in a room of the president's mansion, and as usual it has to be perfect. I will be at the celebration as a waiter, because almost a thousand are needed for the lavish party. I hammer reflective panels onto all the walls and once get to climb a ladder to help with the installment of the hanging lights. Mostly I'm useless, because I know nothing of electronics, but it's briefly exhilarating to be up that high. It's these small moments that somehow keep me going. I live for the small moments now, not for this forever that will never actually happen.

The day I watch the whole thing is the day Katniss and Peeta go to district two. I want to see my family again, even if they believe me dead. When they get off the train, the camera cuts to the platforms. First mine. My father is there, looking worn, and apart from him stand my mother and Aelia. My mother has tears in her eyes, but I'm glad to see Aelia is relatively normal. I don't want them crying over me. On the other platform, a dark haired woman stands alone. She has pale grey eyes, nothing like Clove's warm brown ones. Compared to her, my family looks positively ecstatic. I remember that this is her second time standing on this platform. First for Jules, and now for Clove, and now she's all alone.

* * *

**Sorry, that was a really weird place to stop it, but I needed to make sure I have enough material for the next chapter. Something more exciting will happen soon, which is good, because this has been a little slow so far. Sorry about that, but I feel like I should set things up at a realistic pace. A disclaimer - I don't actually know how you're supposed to write out sign language. This sign language is more like SEE (signed exact english), in that it uses english grammar. So yeah, basically, I have no clue what I'm doing. But I didn't want to write a story with no dialogue. Wow, that was a long AN. Hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

The day of the party, I get up at four to prepare. All day is spent hanging decorations and putting the finishing touches on all the furniture. Everything has to be perfect for the star-crossed lovers, of course. Would it make them happy to know that their fabulous party was the result of hundreds of deprived men and women getting up early to put it together for them? I don't think so. They come from district twelve. They must have seen things like this. And by the end of it I think Katniss pitied me. I doubt she has any idea about Clove though.

I must admit, I'm getting a little excited for the celebration. It's not like we'll be enjoying the festivities, but just being in such a nice environment for a change will be great. I doubt I'll get to have any sleep tonight, but maybe I could sneak a little bite of food when we're cleaning up. We get to use real showers to prepare, because the servers have to look their best. I still only get ten minutes, and it's not the automated luxury of the capitol showers, but it's infinitely better than what we're used to.

A big screen broadcasts the train arriving. Caesar Flickerman does an interview, and Lover Boy, or should I say Peeta, gets out a ring and proposes. The sweetness on his face is so genuine I can almost feel happy for them. If it weren't for the fact that I should be the one proposing and another little dark haired girl with good aim should be my bride.

The party is amazing. All of the work we did comes to life as musicians take up instruments and projectors shine stars onto the ceiling. I am waiting only one table, as each group of citizens has to have their own private server. Only the best for the capitol. It's not hard, because it's just a middle-aged couple who I think are friends with the new head gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee. After the first hour or so, they mostly drink and then wander off to some bench and fall asleep. There is one thing though, that makes me sick. There is a room where people enter carrying stemmed glasses and leave with them empty. However thick they may try to make the walls, the sounds of vomiting can be heard behind the door. There are thousands of avoxes who would give anything for just one meal like this and these people, who get this sort of thing every day, are throwing it up again and again so they can eat more.

Katniss and Peeta leave at about one, and the party begins to die down after that. Most of the guests leave barely conscious from alcohol and others lazily doze off in little secluded corners. When most of the capitol people are out of the way, it's our job to clean up the mess. It seems a shame to take down all of this work that we spent so long on putting together. That's one thing about the capitol. Everything is perfect, but nothing is permanent. It's always about getting something better.

"Throw all of it away," says one of the people dressed like an avox but who can actually speak. "It's a death penalty if any one of you put your hands on that food." I look down at the dish in my hand. Inside are a dozen birds maybe the size of a large roll smothered in some herby green sauce. To eat or not to eat. I haven't had sustenance in over twenty four hours. And haven't I decided it doesn't matter if I die? Some part of me knows that is wrong though. I think I maybe do have a will to live, if a small one. Maybe just a fear of death. Still, I would stand up for my right to eat just one of these birds in front of anyone in the capitol. The fumes coming up from the dish are intoxicating. There could be cameras. Do I even care? Finally, I give in and shove a piece of meat in my mouth, then lose my nerve and quickly throw it away. It's so melt-in-your-mouth good it's worth it.

When the tables have been folded, the food cleared, the decorations thrown away, and the room disassembled, we go straight to the hovercraft. I learn from a few avoxes signing standing next to me that today is no ordinary day. Today we are laying the sand for the quarter quell arena. I still don't know what the twist is. I wonder what kind of an arena it will be.

The hovercraft descends over what appears to be a man-made tropical island. It's a perfect circle, a bit small for an arena, with twelve spokes extending from the center all the way out into jungle. I assume we'll be filling the spokes, and maybe the areas between them as well. Unfortunately the weather is in action, and the air is so thick it's difficult to breath. The sand bags scratch my hands. I am very focused on trying to go quickly, since I've never worked with sand. As it turns out, it's reasonably forgiving. Mostly just spreads itself out.

At about noon, I tell myself I get a minute to break. I'm well on target for finishing my area by nightfall and I'm boiling. At least the white uniforms keep us somewhat cool. I look around at the avoxes next to me. On my left is a man I've seen before, early thirties, who is signing to a woman next to him. And on my right is... Nixie.

Yes, it's Nixie. I'm sure of it. The woman has the same wavy hair that even the dark brown hair dye cannot turn monotone. Same long blonde eyelashes. Same longing glances at where they are filling the arena with water. But the second I think it, I know it's not true. She looks very much like Nixie, but there are differences too. She is taller and curvier and bears no sign of any tracker jacker stings. I kept my arena scars, so if by some miracle they rescued her too, she would have them. Maybe tracker jackers don't scar. But mine did. I still have my four marks on my wrist, arm, chest, and face. And what's more, she has one thing Nixie definitely didn't have. A scar across her neck. I know that mark. That's what it looks like after you slit someone's throat. Not with the even pressure of a knife, but with the quick motion of one using a sword. I open another sand bag, puzzled. I guess this girl isn't Nixie then. It's so strange. They could be sisters...

* * *

**Well... yeah. That happened. I can't wait until next chapter, because this is one of my favorite OCs ever, and I'm excited to introduce her. Also, a question. Since June 9th is National Clato Day, I feel like I should do some special oneshot or something. Any suggestions? Hope you enjoyed!**


End file.
